


The Magician

by poetesmaudits



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Canon Era, Drabble, Gen, Petit Picpus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetesmaudits/pseuds/poetesmaudits
Summary: Cosette discovers she is gifted with an incredible magical skill.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent & Père Fauchelevent & Jean Valjean
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	The Magician

It was customary for Cosette to visit her papa and her uncle on weekends, in their home within the convent's precinct. It was a little house with a low roof, half buried in the ground, as though the earth had attempted to swallow it whole, but had failed and resigned, leaving it half-cast in this warm, sticky mud. The windows were dust stained and muslin curtains allowed sun rays to pool inside the rooms, all whilst sheltering the inhabitants from the Summer heat and the all-too-curious gazes, common in a convent. A bean plant was growing in a little pot by the sink, in plain sunlight, and basil in another. The walls were whitewashed and the ground covered in old cracked tiling; this little house was full of charm.

It was rather not so warm anymore, and in fact quite chilly, enough for scarfs and gloves to be taken out of boxes, when the old père Fauchelevent greeted her with rather important news: he had discovered himself to be gifted with a magical skill, which he absolutely needed to try on Cosette (with her father's approval and assistance, of course).

Cosette, who had heard so much about magic without having ever seen it with her own eyes, was ecstatic. She hurriedly greeted her papa, pulled off her gloves, scarf, coat, hat, and went to sit by the fireplace whilst M. Fauchelevent sent multiple winks to her father, who answered only with his familiarly small, barely perceptible smiles. Two chairs were placed by the fire, facing each other. Cosette was seated in one, M. Fauchelevent in the other. Cosette's papa was standing behind M. Fauchelevent's seat, his hands placed on the back of the wooden chair.

“What is it?” asked Cosette, “Oh I cannot wait to see! Will you teach me your trick, mon oncle? Say, will you?”

“Oh, I don't know, Cosette,” answered M. Fauchelevent with false uncertainty, “Not everyone is blessed with the gift of magic, you see. We are going to do an experiment, and see if you too were blessed with these extremely rare and marvelous skills—your father is not, alas. I have tried to pass them onto him, but he's too stubborn, his mind won't allow it. Is that not true, Ultime?”

“Alas.”

Cosette squirmed in her seat in delight; “Show me! Show me!”

“I shall,” said M. Fauchelevent in a very serious, collected tone. Everything on his face said that he was absolutely stating the truth and he truly had mastered a magic trick only few possessed; “Cosette, my child, I am going to think very hard about a number, in between one and twenty. I will try to transmit it to you through the mind, and you will have to guess which number I picked. Can you do that?”

Cosette already seemed less confident, but she bravely nodded her head when her father gave her a look of reassurance.

“Excellent,” continued Fauchelevent, “Now, we always need a witness when practicing such serious magic, I shall thus tell my number to your father. He will be able to certify that I did not cheat and that everything that happens in this room is one hundred percent legitimate.”

Cosette's papa leaned forward and nodded his head with much seriousness after her uncle had whispered the number in his ear. She trembled with excitement. M. Fauchelevent clasped his hands and looked Cosette in the eye as he said; “Now, we must concentrate fully. We must never break eye contact in order to maximise the chances of success, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes! I will be a good magician!”

And so Fauchelevent took a deep breath, then waved his hands in more or less circular motions towards Cosette, hummed, clasped his hands again, then spoke in a grave tone and said: “Cosette, what was the number?”

Cosette contemplated his question for a few seconds then said: “Uh, eight!”

Fauchelevent gasped in surprise, turned towards her papa as though seeking confirmation, and Cosette's smile grew pharaminously.

“Oh oh! Oh my, this is astounding! Flabbergasting! Oh dear, we must try one more time, just to make sure this was no coincidence. Cosette, you might be a magician after all!”

“Maybe maman was a magician herself,” said Cosette. Her papa looked down somberly.

“Maybe.”

They tried again; Cosette guessed the number right again after more theatrics on Fauchelevent's behalf, who was excellent at acting surprised and amazed. Cosette's papa tried his best to look equally surprised, and regularly complimented the little girl on her supernatural skills. Gradually, they climbed in numbers, as Fauchelevent maintained that the higher one went, the more difficult it became; and yet Cosette would guess every single number every time; even when Fauchelevent had set a limit to eighty, and Cosette had guessed a thousand. She would squeal in delight every time, laugh in wonder, offer a huge, toothless smile to her father who applauded and said “Bravo!” every time; and it went on like this for another fifteen minutes, before Fauchelevent changed the rules.

“Now,” he said, “We are going to proceed differently. It is a far more complicated exercise, but it will serve as a confirmation for your extraordinarily powerful skills: _you_ will have to guess a number and transmit it to _my_ mind.”

Cosette's composure faltered for a short instant, before she nodded confidently and put on a bold face.

“I can do that,” she said, more as a way to reassure herself than to answer Fauchelevent. Her papa came to stand behind her. She thought very hard about a number in between one and twenty, whispered it in her father's ear, then turned back towards her uncle with confidence. She did not see her father indicate the number she had whispered in his ear behind her back to M. Fauchelevent. Cosette squeezed her eyes tight shut before opening them again and making direct eye contact with the old gardener.

“Fourteen,” said Fauchelevent after much more theatrics and head clutching and pretending to think very hard. Cosette gasped in surprise.

“You got it right!”

“I did? Oh my! Oh golly! Cosette, I think this certifies it! You're a true magician!”

“No, we must try again to make sure this wasn't luck,” she said, and Fauchelevent adopted a very serious countenance.

“Why yes, of course Mademoiselle.”

They repeated the trick; Cosette whispered the number she had in mind in her father's ear, her father indicated the number with his hands behind her back to M. Fauchelevent who was pretending to be very concentrated, Fauchelevent guessed correctly, and Cosette, gaining more and more confidence as the certitude that she was in fact a great magician grew, would cheer and jump in her seat. They soon climbed up to a thousand, a rather high number Cosette had not yet learned at school (they had only gone up to two-hundred so far).

“Oh I cannot wait to show Elphégénie and Théodelinde,” said Cosette when both Fauchelevent and her father were growing a little tired of this trick. It had made for good fun and had delighted Cosette beyond words. Radiance emanated from her whole being as she sat on that tall chair, grinning and laughing in excitement, demanding to go always further, always higher, and Fauchelevent complied, acting as her humble servant.

“I think,” said her father carefully, “That this might not be the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said her father, frantically looking at Fauchelevent for aid and support, “because... the nuns... the mother superior.....”

“Because this trick can only be carried out by people who possess at least a small ounce of magic,” supplied Fauchelevent, “And as it is a very rare and unique magical skills that only few people can truly master—you are the most powerful magician I have ever met for that matter—you might make your poor schoolmates jealous! And as your father said, what would the mother superior say?”

Cosette nodded her head, understanding perfectly; yes, it made perfect sense.

“Fine,” she said, “But in this case, we shall train every weekend.”

“Of course, Cosette! And when you will be a fully grown, adult-sized human being, you and I can travel around Paris, around France, maybe even around Europe--”

“Around the whole world!”

“--Yes, to show your magic tricks! O Cosette, you are going to be the greatest magician in the entire universe!”

And Cosette was overcome with the most supreme joy. She was a magician; the greatest of them all.


End file.
